Blackface/Whiteface II

Warning: May Will Offend

Monday, June 10, 2019

T-minus 3:00 hours until Raptors Game

After a week and a half of sickness, I died. I went toward the light and ended up at the heavenly gates. It was like the images we’ve all seen before: fluffy clouds you can walk on and things made of gold and sapphires.

I spoke to the man at reception and he confirmed I was in fact in heaven.

“Cool,” I said, “Could you direct me to the nearest TV. I need to see the Raptors pregame show.”

“I’m sorry,” he replied, “We don’t have competitive sports up here. Harp lessons are over there to the left, and see that big lineup there?”

I nodded.

“That’s the line to get Jesus’ autograph.”

“Jesus Christ,” I thought, “I can’t miss the NBA finals.”

I began walking around, looking for someone who might have a contraband TV, or an iPhone so I could watch the game. As I passed by thousands of sandal-wearing, housecoat-clad, long blonde haired, angelic looking folks I noticed something peculiar.

I grabbed one of the holy looking ones by the arm and asked, “Where are all the brothers?”

“We’re all brothers here, my brother.”

“No. I mean why are there no people of colour?

“Oh…” he looked kind of perplexed, but answered me anyway, “Well, it’s a long story, but basically after Kate Smith wrote that racist song ‘Pickaninny Heaven‘ in 1933, they got really pissed off and started their own heaven. They said this one sucked anyway.”

From what I could tell they were right. It looked boring up here. I had to get a look at that other heaven. At the very least there would be basketball there.

I began to walk in the opposite direction, off into the vacant clouds, hoping for a miracle.

T-minus 2:30 hours until Raptors Game

After many minutes, the clouds got darker. The soot of coal-fired factories and power plants, jet exhaust, and automobile pollution of our planet earth reached even here.

I had an idea.

I bent down and picked up a handful of that black marshmallowy fluff and rubbed it all over my body. Toxic shit, but could it really hurtt me? I mean, I was already dead.

The polluted cloud darkened my skin tone considerably. I continued to walk, looking for the alternate heaven. If I was lucky enough to find it, maybe I could get in.

T-minus 1:00 hours until Raptors Game

I walked. And I walked. I was getting tired when suddenly a black angel appeared before me.

“Are you okay my friend? I’m surprised to see you wondering way out here when game five of the NBA finals is about to start.”

“I’m lost,” I explained, “Can you fly me back to heaven, brother?”

“Of course.”

He picked me up by the shoulders and off we flew. We arrived at the other heaven and on first impression it was much, much better. Instead of harp music I could hear Lauyrn Hill playing on the background.

“Just one more thing, brother, before we go in,” the angel requested, “It’s just a formality, but I gotta ask you for the secret password.”

I froze. I began to sweat.

Obama?” I took a wild guess.

The angel moved closer. He sensed something a little off about me. My sweat was starting to make the black cloud drip down my forehead.

“Wait a second. You’re just another white guy wearing blackface!”

And with that he cast me back to earth. As I fell from the cloud I heard his voice trial off, “That shit is never coooool…”

T-minus 10 minutes until Raptors Game

I landed on the couch with a big bounce. I was alive! I grabbed the remote and turned on the game with time to spare.

Just then the doorbell rang. I answered the door. It was my buddy C, coming over to watch the game.

He saw me covered in the black soot from the cloud and shook his head.

“Who you supposed to be, Kawhi Leonard?”

I shrugged, not knowing how I could possibly explain any of what just transpired.

He said, “You know, that shit is never really cool.”

7 thoughts on “Blackface/Whiteface II

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